tangible
by glass-empires
Summary: Vi; KylarElene x- Nysos help her. Vi tries so hard to understand a life she will never -doesn't /deserve/ to experience, emotions he will never reciprocate. A goal within reach, but so far away.


**domi|note**

My doctor said that I shouldn't go to school day. It's weird, isn't it?

recommended music;- _Falling Stars _by Kelsie Rimmer.

**Enjoi.**

* * *

**Tangible.**

Vi's thought's on life and love and loss are fragmented delusions of tender kisses and fucks that don't involve as much pain as possible. Her philosophies aren't deep, and Hu didn't exactly prepare her for the world with a love of artistic capability and a sunshine-rainbows outlook on life. Her religious visions now extended beyond Nysos and Khali, but, she doubted she would find absolution or any higher powers beyond that which she had witnessed during the Khalidorian goddesses' fall.

She was a whore. Not a prostitute, for she could acquire money far faster from slitting men's throats than bedding them. She'd come… to numb herself to their screams and swears as the life drained from their bodies, slowly –or in rivulets that drained into the Cenarian gutters. She'd come to like- to love the flicker of fear in their eyes as they realised their end had come. As _their _life flashed before them, and they wondered-

_Had I done everything I wanted to in this life? Will I be worthy, of whatever joy I can accumulate in the next? _

She saw that in Elene. As she watched over her corpse, as her hands ran across the petals of the red tulips clasped in delicate cold hands. She saw someone that was worthy of a beautiful new reality years from now, in a land free of the terrors she, Kylar and Jarl had faced as children. She saw accomplishment she would never hope to gain in the capital Elenea, and love, that she was sure, she could never experience, from the Night Angel.

Viridiana Sovari couldn't even _begin _to philosophise love, having been a child that had developed with a wretched, twisted version of a Warren's-rat's fantasy- an image that Kylar, through meticulous and careful planning, had almost managed to construct… if only for a little while. She couldn't understand the dynamic of marriage, even less those god-forsaken rings lovers used to bind each other with… But she could see love.

She'd observed it, subtle and not. Subtle in the small glances she'd seen between Durzo and Momma K. They didn't even _touch_ but, as if she'd suddenly been gifted with the seventh-sense female perception, she could just _tell_ there was something there. 'Not so' with Logan and Jenine, flaunting their relationship like newly-weds, but in all honestly they were, if you decided to forgo the fact that Logan had spent who-knows how long in a lightless black hole. And then there had been with Elene and Kylar, who radiated a sense of longing and stupidly sweet vibes that made Vi shudder, with disgust often, but jealously did manage to wriggle into her expressions every now and again.

Vi didn't like- didn't _do_ spiritual. But she could _get_ tangible. Tangible, to Nysos followers, had been blood, semen and wine, of course… but she could get love, a prospect that Nysos obviously didn't herald –because it was done so by some other forgiving deity- in physicality through touch, (in the way Kylar had skimmed his fingertips across her scarred cheek, and didn't falter, once) in sight, (how he had seen _her, _beyond her skin's testimony of the evil and wretchedness in the world, and gazed upon light in her bright brown eyes) in his voice, (the way he still whispered her name during the night when he thought that Vi could not hear, and the black ka'kari didn't muffle the sounds of his crying late in the night time) and his tears.

Through closer study, Vi's images and broken sentences remained that, never recorded –she was sure some other great scholar would do it for her- because she was helpless. Whether she was the most socially inept female the hundred gods had ever breathed life into, or Elene herself, she couldn't stop Kylar's tears, or the sadness that threatened to shred him apart from the inside out. She could only sit back and watch as he slowly broke down, cursing the gods –Khali above them all (The Wolf as well)- for what had happened.

Vi would be there, when time had turned the fresh wounds into scars, and Kylar slipped into the shadows once again, to pull him back and pick up the pieces of his broken heart, something she realised was an emotion that rivalled fear in intensity, before death itself.

And slowly, she would begin to understand.


End file.
